


Hunting Prince Jon

by fanetjuh



Series: Jonsa Week [23]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark Jon Snow, Dark Sansa, F/M, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 00:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15303024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/fanetjuh
Summary: Sansa has sworn to save Jon from himself, to heal him, to help him, but the urge to kill again grows stronger and stronger and Jon doesn't know how much longer he can contain the former serial killer inside of him. The very last thing he wants is hurting or killing Sansa, but he knows that if nothing happens he will lose control rather sooner than later.





	Hunting Prince Jon

**Author's Note:**

> This story can be read as a sequel to "Stalking Jon the Ripper", but I hope it can also stand on its own.

He was trying. He was trying so hard that it hurt. He kept on telling himself that he had promised her, that he couldn’t disappoint her, that he couldn’t betray her. But the more he tried to fight the monster inside of him, the bigger that monster seemed to grow. 

He couldn’t hold a kitchen knife without feeling the urge to slid her throat and watch the blood dripping down her dress. He couldn’t sleep next to her without wanting to grab her pillow and watch the fight and life seeping out of her. 

And he hated himself for it.

She believed in him. She believed he could be a better man. She believed he could walk away from the alter ego his grief had created. She promised to heal him, to fix him, to save him. She didn’t know how hard she was failing. She didn’t know how hard he was failing.

His fist landed on the wooden desk and a growl escaped his half closed lips. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He didn’t want to kill anyone. He most of all didn’t want to hurt of kill her. 

But the part of him that needed the thrill, the moment of ultimate power, the moment of being in control of life and death, didn’t care who she was and what he had promised. That part needed blood. It needed death. It needed to take a life.

His fist slammed on his desk again. And again. And again. A sharp pain spread through his hand and his entire arm. Drops of blood dripped on the expensive wood, staining it forever. He slammed again. And again. And again. But no matter how hard he slammed, no matter how many bones he bruised, no matter how much blood he lost, the monster in his chest just kept on laughing in his face.

“Jon?” Sansa rushed into the shared bedroom. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped and she placed a hand on his back in an attempt to calm him down.

“Go away, Sansa…” He hissed between his teeth. His chest moved up and down rapidly and he heard his own heart beating. “You have to get away from me. Now.” He didn’t dare to look at her. He didn’t know how much longer he could fight himself. And he did know that the letter opener was near, within reach. 

“No…” Sansa shook her head. One day her braveness would kill her. One day her life would end because she refused to run away from danger. One day she would die by his hand because she didn’t want to give up on him.

He hated her for it. He loved her for it.

“What’s wrong?” She spoke softly and her hand kept on rubbing his back. “Talk to me, Jon.” Sansa spoke firm and Jon closed his eyes. 

“I can’t fight it.” He wasn’t sure if the words came out as a whisper or a growl. “I can’t fight him.” He let the tears roll down his cheeks. “He wants to kill. He needs to kill. Someone. You.”

Sansa kept silent for a moment. Her hand stilled on his back. But she didn’t walk away. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t leave him. Not yet. “Why?” She took a deep breath and her hand started moving again. 

“The thrill, the control, the power. I don’t know…” He shook his head and once more he let his fist land on the bloodied desk. “I don’t know how much longer…”

“A few hours.” Sansa straightened her back and lifted her chin. “Give me a few hours.” She licked her dry lips and Jon looked up, his eyes meeting hers. Her glance was filled with fire, with determination, with the kind of willpower Jon wished he possessed right now. “A few hours is all I need.”

He didn’t know what she was up to, how she was gonna save him, but what were a few more hours? He could give her a few more hours. He wanted to give her a few more hours. A few more hours to stop him. A few more hours to fight him. A few more hours to save him. He nodded. And while Sansa walked away to who knew where, he kept on repeating the same sentence over and over to pass the time. 

A few more hours. Only a few more hours. 

“Jon?” 

When he opened his eyes again the sun had set. Their shared bedroom was dark, the sheets crumbled because he had fallen asleep on top of them, still fully clothed. “Did it work?” He wasn’t sure what she had been doing, where she had been going. He was sure that the few hours she had needed, the few hours he had promised her, had passed. 

“I don’t know.” She stepped closer. “Yet.” Her voice wasn’t trembling and when she reached out her hands to help him up her arms weren’t shaking either. 

He placed his hands in hers and leaned on her while he stepped out of the bed. “When will you know?” 

“When you tell me it worked.” Sansa kneeled down in front of him and double tied his shoe lashes. She stood up again and handed him his jacket. The palm of her hand touched his cheek before she pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Gunthorpe street, 11pm.” She spoke softly. “His name is Martin Kenner. He killed two kids, but the judges let him go because he paid them an awful lot of money.” 

Jon furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “I don’t…”

“Take your knife. Take your monster. Satisfy it.” Sansa placed a hand on his chest. “Feed it by killing someone who deserves to die.” 

He widened his eyes and stared at her. “You want me to kill…” He shook his head, but he felt the monster inside him waking up, stretching out its fingers, already looking forward to finally being unleashed tonight. 

“I'm not gonna lose you, Jon.” She stepped back. “And if I need to find you people to kill to keep you alive and with me, so be it.”

“Sansa…” Jon took a deep breath. The innocence he had once fallen in love with was gone. The little girl she had once been had grown up. He had chased that innocent girl away. He had killed that part of her. “This isn’t you…” 

She curled her lips up into a mocking smile. “I am who I have to be for you.” 

“You're not a killer. You’re not a murderer. Your heart is filled with love, not with hate.” Jon pleaded, but Sansa didn’t crack, not even a little bit. 

“The line between hate and love is fine, Jon. I love you. I love you that much that I will let hate into my heart.” Her lips formed a straight line. “I want that man dead, Jon. I want you to kill him.”

Jon nodded and he grabbed the back of her neck before he pressed his lips firmly on hers. Every time he thought he couldn’t love her any more than he already did, he discovered that he still could. “I don’t deserve you.” He stepped back and put his jacket on. “And you deserve so much more and better than I can give.” He didn’t give her the chance to answer. 

He opened the drawer and reached for his blinking knife. Smoothly, as if it had been only yesterday since he had held it, he hid it in a pocket designed to keep it safe. Without looking over his shoulder he walked through the door, down the stairs and left the house. 

The night was quiet and cold. The wind blew in his face. It was the adrenaline that kept him warm. It was the monster that kept him going. 

He buried his chin in his jacket. His dark curls hid most of his face. He united with the shadows, just like he had done so many years ago. Old habits never fully died. 

This time he didn’t have a reasonable motivation. He didn’t have a broken heart he tried to heal. He didn’t have a goal. He just wanted to kill. 

He slowed down when he reached Gunthorpe street. He let his glance wander over the people crowding the area. He saw a hooker, begging for attention and money. He saw a tramp, hiding under the newspaper from three days ago. He saw a rich man, hopelessly out of place between the gamblers and the vagabonds, pretending he didn’t belong here while his eyes wandered over the women he could take home with him tonight. 

“Mister Kenner?” Jon lifted his chin and straightened his back. 

“Yes?” The man raised his eyebrows while Jon approached. 

“I have an offer we need to discuss. One you can’t refuse.” Jon didn’t know if the man would fall for the trick. “If you walk with me for a few minutes I will explain it to you.”

Martin stared once more at the women fighting for whatever he had in his wallet. “Why not? None of them will be gone before I get back.” He chuckled and the monster inside Jon started to roar, loudly, clearly and most of all hungry.

Jon led the man around a corner. Around another one and another one. And when they were out of sight he finally released the beast inside him. He curled his fingers around his knife and he buried his other hand in the man’s hair. Without an explanation, without giving Martin the chance to realize what was happening, the sharp blade slid Kenner’s throat. Jon watched the blood seeping down, staining Kenner’s bright white shirt. Jon watched the lifeless body of the man collapse on the dirty cobbles in this dark neighborhood. Jon could almost feel the soul of the man being freed and descending to hell, where it belonged. 

The monster smiled. It drank in the sight of blood. It devoured the image of the lifeless body. It basked in the adrenaline rushing through Jon’s veins. And for the first time in weeks it calmed down and fell asleep.

With a satisfied smile on his face Jon put the knife away and walked back home. He greeted some people left and right. He politely declined offered services and invitations to shady bars. He took the shortest routeand threw the front door open without even attempting to be quiet. 

“And?” Sansa rushed into the hallway. 

“It worked.” Jon exhaled and then the smile on his face brightened. 

Sansa ran towards him and she threw her arms around his neck. Her lips kissed his and he kissed her back, eagerly. 

He lifted her up and twirled her around. “What would I do without you, Sansa Stark?” Jon paused their kiss for a few seconds before he kissed her again. 

“Nothing, Jon Snow, absolutely nothing.” Sansa buried her hands in his curls and wrapped her legs around his waist.

She was right. Without her he’d been nothing. Without her he maybe would have been dead. Without her he would be lost. 

“Let me know when the monster wakes up again. I’m sure this city houses some more garbage it can live without.” She whispered and while she kept on kissing him, he carried her upstairs, towards the bedroom. 

And for the first time in weeks he didn’t think about suffocating her with a pillow or slitting her throat. For the first time in weeks he only thought about making love to her for the rest of the night.


End file.
